Always Right
by Envious Writer
Summary: "So, Brucey…" Bruce flinched, "What made you seek me out, on a beautiful night, drunk...?" "I… I needed to see you… to see someone who… who might be able to help me…"


Bruce sighed and threw back from his sixth shot of rum. The sweet and gentle burn made him grin, darkly. He slammed it down and shouted for the bartender. The young man walked over, his multiple piercings glowing in the dim light of the bar mirror. He sighed and leaned on the bar, staring at Bruce with an agitated glare, dark eyeliner making the bloodshot exhaustion in his eyes.

"What?"

Bruce growled and tapped the shot glass. The bartender shook his head and swept the glass away.

"No more rum for you, man. You're beyond drunk at this point."

Bruce growled again and slapped his hand down on the bar, pushing a small wad of tens toward the bartender, but the other man just shook his head and turned away.

"Seriously, dude. Go home. You've had enough tonight."

Bruce stood and stumbled out the door. As he watched the rain fall in droves around the bar, the roads and sidewalks flooding till they formed a single river, his expression deepened, becoming edgier and enraged. He stared at the sky, a look of clarity and determination gleaming in his eyes.

"No… I haven't… Not yet…"

With that, he thrust himself out into the chilly downpour, down the street, toward the dark swirling shadows that marked Downtown Gotham for the cesspool of crime that it was.

Meanwhile, in a dank smelly apartment room in Downtown, The Joker sat sideways in a rotting armchair. In front of him, he held a heavy, bloodstained brick and his favorite knife. He sharpened his blade across the brick, slowly, much like a musician playing his violin. Before him on the ground, lay the still dying body of the legal owner of the apartment. The man had been young and vaguely attractive. The Joker had hated him immediately.

"_Guy_… just think of it _this_ way. At least you were _truly _pretty when you die."

The Joker cackled as the man before him twitched, dark brown hair sticky and black with blood. The Glasgow smile torn into his cheeks forced his lips into a wicked grin which contradicted the tears pooling beneath his head, mixing with the blood. The Joker watched, entranced, as the young man slowly bled to death before him. The Joker continued to laugh as he pulled the dripping corpse over his shoulder and danced it over to the window.

"Nighty night, Gotham!" he said, throwing the man out the tall window and over the balcony beside them. He looked down, hand set on his brow in a mock salute as the body tumbled to the ground, coat fluttering behind him, raindrops parting as he flew by. He giggled, twirling on the balcony. The rain stopped, the clouds shifting away in the breeze.

"You know what?" he said to apparently no one, "I _love _nights like this. The air is crisp and thin… you can hear the screams of pain and misery from _everywhere_."

He laughed and wandered back into his new apartment. He flopped down on the couch, stretching out so he was resting his head against one arm and his legs hung, swinging, from the other. He looked down at the pool of warm blood and stuck his finger in it, tracing patterns in it, drawing it out across the floor. He grinned as he finger painted a crude looking knife and a dead bat.

"The only issue with these nights _is_… you can see the _stars_. Every individual star glows like an ember – _angry_ embers. And you think about it… _everything. _You realize… you're _alone_. Totally, terribly _alone_. No one would miss you if you died… if your plans went wrong and you got blown up too… if you finally just went mad and cut yourself up alongside your victims… It's… it's sad. You know what I mean?"

There was a pause before there was a sigh and a dark man separated from the shadows.

"Yeah…" Bruce said from behind his Batman mask.

Joker looked up at him, not angry or afraid, just… studying him. Bruce returned the look, observing the other man as well. The blood on his finger was dripping down onto the sofa leaving angry red dots of red as he gestured around the apartment.

"I see you found my new home… well, not home… I'm never at home. But you know what I mean…"

He bent his knees, opening up a seat for Bruce. He glanced at him and then at the seat. Bruce sat, his head feeling too light to remain standing. He could feel the alcohol swirling in his veins, slowing his thoughts, killing his reasoning and his ability to fight. He wasn't even mad at the Joker for killing the other man. He was just… dead inside.

"So, Brucey…" Bruce flinched, "What made you seek me out, on a beautiful night, drunk off your ass?"

"I… I needed to see you… to see someone who… who might be able to help me…"

The Joker raised an eyebrow, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning forward.

"Tell me about it… _stud_."

Bruce shuddered, turning toward the other man. Brain slow and blurred, emotions surfacing that he'd tried forever to hide – Bruce slid closer, his hand reaching up to brush the Joker's scarred cheeks. The Joker shivered, staring back, his eyes gleaming with wicked flames. Bruce's breathing became erratic and he fought to breathe, fingers shaking as they continued to trace the scars across the Joker's face. The Joker sat still for a few minutes, waiting quiet and expectant until too much time had passed. He growled, shifted onto his knees and slammed his mouth against Bruce's.

Bruce was struck stone, solid and unmoving as terror – and something far more pleasant – forced its way swiftly through his blood. The Joker ground his lips against Bruce's, yanking slyly the tips of Bruce's masks, tugging away Bruce's last hope of secret identity. Bruce gasped and tried to move his arms to grab his hood. The Joker bit Bruce's lip and forced Bruce's hands under his knees, ceasing all motion. The Joker smirked into the kiss as he tossed the hood across the small room.

Bruce growled and slammed his tongue against the Joker's soft scarred lips. The Joker opened his mouth willingly and Bruce shoved him back against the arm rest. Bestial, he forced his newly freed hand into the Joker's hair and forced his head back, revealing his white vulnerable neck. He moved down, biting and gnawing on the pale flesh as the Joker groaned madly above him.

After a large span of time had passed and Bruce had grown bored, he sat back, staring at the panting, love bitten Joker, who stared back at him. The Joker smiled and twirled a finger in Bruce's hair.

"I was _right_."

"Aren't you always?"

Bruce sat back, pulling the Joker against him as he did so that they overlapped, chest to chest. He sighed, stroking the Joker's hair. The Joker grinned and traced a heart with his blood stained finger, leaving a pattern of the Batman's torso.

"Yeah… I _am_, aren't I?"

A/N: This turned out longer than I thought it'd be buuuuut I like it. Like a lot. Except for that annoyingly fluffy bit at the end. It's just… FLUFFY. And totally OOC. But I _still _like it. :D COOKIES FOR ALL WHO REVIEW!! You knoooow you want to.


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